Wayward Anomaly
by CrossedQuills
Summary: What happened after Prompto fell from the train... and why does this dead MT look so much like him? Request fic for Prompto-loco. Graphic depictions of violence and an overall mind-fuck. I'm so sorry Prompto.


*Request fic for Prompto-loco. Based on their music video (and awesome art) on Tumblr. Go check it out, it's freaking awesome.

**Rated for graphic violence. I'm so sorry, Prompto.

WAYWARD ANOMALY

CHAPTER 1

He had him, he actually had him. Prompto looked down the barrel of his gun into Ardyn's smug face as the chancellor held his hands up to his sides in blasé surrender. The bitterly cold air whipped by them, stinging every bit of Prompto's exposed skin, but he wouldn't move. He would wait for Noctis to arrive.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the prince warp down from the carriers, hearing them explode and crash in the distance. At least _that_ was taken care of.

Noctis was running at them, his eyes on fire with rage. He jumped into the air with his sword held high. Prompto flinched for a moment, then he was falling. The air escaped his lungs in a surprised yelp as the train flew away from him. He didn't even have time to process what had happened before he started snapping through the evergreen limbs of the trees dotting the cliff side. He fell for what felt like forever before he broke through the inch thick ice covering the river below.

His muscles refused to work, partially from the pain but mostly from the oppressive cold. He had no air left in his lungs from the impact and a good portion of him wanted to just die right there in the frigid water.

Noctis had pushed him. He'd looked like he wanted Prompto dead. He had been acting odd in the train, but Prompto had accredited that to what had happened in Altissia. But just a moment ago… Noct had murder in his eyes. Eyes that were looking right at him.

Prompto was brought back to reality when his back touched the bottom of the river. It jarred him just enough to make him move. He pushed off from the bottom and willed his body to swim. When he reached the surface he'd drifted a bit from where he had initially broken through, leaving him with fresh, unbroken ice above him. He was out of air and swiftly losing consciousness. He punched at the ice with his fist, but it didn't budge. The river was dragging him along slowly as he tried to get purchase on anything.

The edges of his vision began to blur just before the river turned and spat him out over some slow rapids. He hit his back on a rock, but the ice was broken here. He gasped for air and flailed his arms out, catching hold of a felled tree. The current almost pulled him away, but somehow he managed to hold on.

Prompto didn't exactly remember crawling his way onto the snowy bank, but he remembered looking up to the snow covered pines, gasping for air, and shivering violently. His mind was a blank. Cold and pain was all that flowed through him. He had to warm up. Somehow he had to warm up.

Whatever logical part of his mind the river left brought back some of the survival training Gladio had taught him just before their trip started. He rolled over and pushed his hands into the snow. His body didn't want to move, but it had to if he was going to live. He started doing pushups, or whatever you would call the shivering seizure he was having in push up position. His muscles strained as the wind bit into his wet skin. The push-ups were helping but not nearly enough. He had to get out of the wind.

Looking around he found a small rock outcropping and a patch of ground blessedly free of snow. He shakily stood up and ran over to it. The shelter from the wind helped, but he still needed to warm up. Prompto dug under the rocks and found a few handfuls of dry leaves, he piled them up hoping they wouldn't blow away and retrieved some thin sticks and pine needles. He blew into his hands to try and warm them, but he still couldn't feel anything as he found a few more sticks and logs that were dry enough for a fire.

Once he had a respectable pile he fumbled in his cargo pocket for his spare keys to the Regalia. They keychain was a flint Gladio had given him during his training. He'd brushed it off at the time, but right now when he saw the sparks ignite the leaves he could have kissed Gladio were he here. Prompto blew lightly on the tiny flame until it caught more of the kindling and eventually he had a very respectable fire going.

When his hands were warm he realized that his knuckles were bleeding. Probably from punching the ice though it might have been from the fall itself. Everything that wasn't still numb hurt and raw, including his emotions.

Once he wasn't actively fighting for his life he had a moment to think about what had happened on the train. What was going on with Noctis? Did Ignis and Gladio know he was missing yet? Had they stopped the train to come look for him? Probably not. It was going so fast and there were lots of other passengers. Should he wait? Should he try and climb back up the mountain and follow the tracks? He wasn't even entirely sure where the train was going.

The wind picked up and Prompto scooted forward toward the fire, laying down so it could warm more of him. The sun was going down and it was getting even colder. Prompto closed his eyes and tried to think about what to do, but soon the welcome blanket of unconsciousness took him.

 _He was being chased. Looking over his shoulder he saw the two MT's in hot pursuit, their weapons drawn. They'd already shot at him, missing him by inches as the bullets zipped by his head loud enough to hear. Their red eyes blazing through their armored metal façade's as they looked at him with stoic, dead stares._

 _They shot again, this time bullets ripped through his abdomen. Prompto collapsed onto the crimson splattered snow, holding his hands to his stomach. The sticky blood was the only feeling of warmth as all the heat began to drain out of him. The quick crunch of armored footsteps in the snow caught up to him and soon he was flanked by the two MT's. Four red eyes looked down to him from their metal frames as one of them lifted their gun to his face and pulled the trigger._

Prompto was pulled back into the blazing panic of consciousness, his own screaming the only sound in his ears over the wind and the crackle of the fire. He reached down, feeling his stomach. It was still wet, but thankfully when he pulled his hands back up into the light they were only wet from the river water. No blood. He realized now that there were tears streaming down his face. "Why…" he choked out. He wasn't sure what he was asking or to whom, but the word fell off his lips none the less.

"Why, indeed," said a voice that drained what little warmth Prompto had left in him. He was on his feet in an instant, peering out into the darkness. Ardyn's outline slowly appeared by the light of the fire. The barrel of Prompto's own gun pointed at him. Prompto had no defense. He had no magic flasks, no backup weapons, no potions, nothing. If Ardyn shot, he would be dead.

The Chancellor took a few steps toward him with the same blasé face he'd always worn. Prompto wondered if he would be able to get to him fast enough. Maybe wrestle the gun out of his hands?

As he played over his options something unexpected happened. Ardyn tilted the gun lazily to its side and held it out by the handle toward Prompto. "I believe this is yours."

Prompto didn't move. This was some kind of trick and he knew it.

Ardyn shrugged and tossed him the gun, it landed on the frosted grass at his feet. Prompto immediately reached down and picked it up, pointing it at the Chancellor and pulling the trigger before he could change his mind.

It clicked. Empty.

Ardyn let out a low, humorless chuckle. "You don't think I would be foolish enough to give you a loaded gun, do you?" He tossed Prompto a brown, wool lined coat. "You must be freezing. Your gun… and coat for you. Your friends are headed to Gralea. Perhaps you can meet them there… if you hurry." He turned and walked back into the darkness. "You will find what ammo you had left in the coat pockets. There's a storm coming and it's not going to get any warmer. I would hurry if I were you."

Prompto dove down and rummaged through the coat. One pocket had a black wool hat and gloves, the other his ammo. By the time his numb fingers reloaded his gun he looked up to find only blackness.

The faint light of dawn was peeking over the horizon of mountains. With the days getting shorter he had no way of knowing what time it actually was. Gralea was north from here. He had no clue how he would get there, but he had to hurry. The others needed him…

Prompto corrected himself.

…He needed Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis.

Throwing the coat and hat on, he smothered his fire, double checked the safety on his gun, and began to run north.

He had no compass, but he knew keeping the rising sun on his right would keep him going in roughly the right direction. Hopefully he would find a road soon, or better yet the train tracks. He'd been jogging for about an hour when he found the snowmobile tracks in the snow.

Prompto followed them until they led to a gap in the mountain pass. He could see the MT and the Nif logo in the side of the snowmobile as he approached. He tried to creep closer quietly, but the snow made too much noise. He took the safety off his gun as he got closer to the lone MT. If he could take him out and steal the snowmobile he might have a chance of making some decent headway to Gralea. It was his best chance.

Raising his gun he approached the MT who had its back to him. Prompto knew he didn't have many bullets left and his hands were still shaking from the cold. He had to make this shot count, and he couldn't hesitate like he did with Ardyn on the train. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

When he was about twenty feet away the MT tilted its head and spun around, pointing the machine gun at him.

For an instant it hesitated, offering Prompto the chance to pull the trigger. He'd done it on countless other MT's before, but this was the first one he'd ever seen without a metallic face mask. The shot rang out, echoing off the mountains as the bullet went right through the MT's forehead, causing its head to snap back before it fell to the ground. The helmet rolled away to the blood spattered snow as the body hit the ground with a clang.

Prompto ran up to it, weapon still drawn.

When he got close enough to see its face he froze. "No… It can't be."

The body in front of him was wearing the standard MT uniform he'd seen hundreds of times before, but this one had a painfully familiar facial structure, blonde hair, freckles, and blue eyes.

It was him. The MT laying on the snow in front of Prompto looked exactly like him.


End file.
